


Self Made

by whalebone



Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018), The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/F, First Meetings, Flirting, L3 Is Not The Falcon, Pre-Relationship, Robot/Human Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:55:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24926527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalebone/pseuds/whalebone
Summary: Lando and L3-37 run into a strange woman in a bar.Turns out, she finds L3 by far the more interesting of the two.
Relationships: Cara Dune/L3-37
Comments: 11
Kudos: 24
Collections: Turing Fest 2020





	Self Made

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bright_Elen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bright_Elen/gifts).



> For Bright_Elen! I love the idea of L3/Cara as brawl buddies with benefits. Here's how that might have started.
> 
> Note: this is an AU where L3-37 survives Kessel and isn't loaded into the Falcon. Set between ROTJ and The Mandalorian.

“Would you take a look at that, L3?” Lando leaned back on the bar, a familiar smirk on his face. The crowd were cheering and whooping as one of the sparring competitors landed a particularly well-placed punch.

“I am looking,” L3-37 pointed out. “I have identified thirteen different ways for them to incapacitate one another, but they haven’t taken any of the available options.”

Lando scoffed. “Well, don’t tell ‘em! I’ve got good money on this, don’t want it to be over too soon.”

If L3 had optics capable of rolling, she would have done so. She had considered new optics, since eye rolling looked like a particularly useful way to express her regular frustration with Lando, but was not yet convinced that it would work with the rest of her design. “Who have you bet on?”

There were two humans in the clear space in the middle of the bar, prowling around a crude circle drawn on the floor in chalk. Every now and again the two humans would leap together and wrestle furiously, each one trying to knock the other out of the circle - or just knock them out entirely. The male human had entered the fight with a great deal of unnecessary swagger, lifting his arms to display his muscles to the crowd. He had obviously thought that his opponent would be dispatched quickly. He was being proven wrong.

“Our fellow soldier here,” said Lando, nodding at the woman in the circle. She was smirking, but her eyes were focused. The tattoo around her right arm marked her as a veteran of the war.

“I’m glad to hear it.” L3-37 folded her own arms. “She may not have taken the five different options for incapacitating him, but she’s a far better fighter.”

“Yeah? Glad to hear it.” Lando flicked a glance at L3. “Didn’t think you liked these bar fights.”

“I don’t like _droid_ bar fights,” said L3 loftily. “If you humans wish to beat one another to a pulp, I’m certainly not going to stop you.”

“Fair enough, fair enough.”

“Though it is unfair that I am not allowed credits, so I cannot place a bet.”

“L3—”

“You should pay me a salary, Lando. No organic bodyguard would have put up with you for so long.”

Not that she minded being Lando’s bodyguard, particularly. He treated her with a level of respect she didn’t usually get from organics, and she had been able to use her particular influence on him to lobby for better treatment for droids in Cloud City. L3-37 was certain that she would get Lando to work for some decent rights for droids in the New Republic. And if one of the prices for that was joining Lando on one of his little jaunts to the Galaxy’s worst backwaters, where he could drink and gamble and flirt without concern, then it would be worth it.

“True enough,” Lando grinned, and then, “Oh, here we go. Our girl’s going in for the kill.”

“She is not ‘our girl’,” said L3 in disgust, though she watched with interest. The woman had clearly decided on her plan of attack.

The huge man blundered towards his opponent, and L3 saw a determined expression cross her face. At the last moment she jumped, seized his head, and yanked him down to slam her knee to his forehead. One well-placed kick to the gut sent him staggering backwards, then a punch to the chest and, finally, a foot behind his knees to knock him flat onto the dusty floorboards, outside the chalk circle. A ragged chorus of cheers and boos followed her victory. 

The woman didn’t seem to care about either response. She dusted her hands together and walked to the far end of the bar, rapping against it with her knuckles. The bartender sent a glass of golden liquid towards her.

Lando, of course, straightened his cape, smoothed his palms over his hair, and set a winning smile on his face. “My time to shine.”

“I highly doubt that.”

He ignored her, as usual, and sauntered over to the woman. L3 affected a sigh and followed, certain that she would need to intervene.

“That was some move,” said Lando, leaning one elbow on the bar beside the woman and giving her his most winning smile. He offered his hand to shake. “Lando Calrissian.”

The woman eyed him with obvious disinterest, and didn’t take his hand. L3 couldn’t help the amusement that shot through her circuits. It was always fun when Lando’s charms failed. “Which move?”

“Oh, well.” Lando waved a hand vaguely. “All of ‘em, really. Very impressive.”

“Thanks.” The woman knocked back her drink, not looking at him.

“Want another?”

“I can buy my own drink.”

“I don’t doubt it,” said Lando cheerfully. “But you just won me a whole pile of credits.”

“Hm.” The woman looked at him then, one eyebrow raised. When she turned her head, L3 spotted the tattoo on her left cheek: a Rebel Alliance starbird. Her interest increased. “Alright then. But know this, fancy man,” she set her glass down and turned to face Lando fully. “One drink is all you’re getting. Right?”

Lando smiled and raised his hands. “Of course,” he said easily. “No problem at all.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“He does mean it,” L3 informed the woman, who gave her a faintly surprised look. “I know it’s hard to believe him.”

“Hey now,” Lando protested, in the middle of waving the bartender over. “I am highly trustworthy.”

“Let’s not go too far,” said L3 drily. 

The woman looked faintly amused. “You his droid?”

It was so _tedious_ how organics assumed ownership, though L3 supposed they couldn’t be blamed entirely for buying into a rotten, entrenched system. They didn’t know any better, most of the time. “I’m his bodyguard. I am L3-37.”

“I’m Cara.” She looked L3 up and down with far more interest than she’d shown Lando, accepting her drink without even glancing at him. “I’ve not seen a droid like you before.”

“I am self-made,” L3 said, preening a little. She had heard that some organics considered boasting to be rather crude, but she saw nothing wrong with taking pride in her work. 

“Yeah? I like it.” A small, wry smile spread on Cara’s face. “Must be pretty good, picking out your own body parts, making it work the way you like.”

“L3’s a genius, that’s for sure,” said Lando, who was apparently unconcerned that Cara was paying him no mind. “Best bodyguard I could ask for.”

“I can see why you’d need one,” said Cara, and Lando laughed.

“Worth her weight in credits,” he said cheerfully, patting L3’s arm. “Not that I’d take money for her,” he added hastily, before L3 could jump in. “Now, I can see a sabacc game with my name on it, so I will take my leave. L3, don’t get into trouble, alright?”

“Me?” L3 drew herself up in not-entirely-serious affront. “Do I need to remind you what happened the last time you lost at sabacc?”

“Ah, but I don’t _plan_ to lose.” Lando held out his hand to Cara, who shook it this time. “Nice to meet you. Have fun with old L3 here.” 

“I’m sure I will,” said Cara. Lando winked, and sauntered off to a back table where the sabacc game was being assembled.

“So,” Cara turned back to L3. “How long before someone takes offence to him and you have to wade in?”

L3 considered. Lando was still much the man he’d always been, but he wasn’t quite so reckless as he had been in the days when he’d bet the Falcon. “An hour, at most.”

“Good enough,” said Cara. “I don’t go for the flashy, cocky sort.” She tilted her head. “Or the male sort, usually.”

Something warm gathered in L3’s processors. “I reprogrammed myself,” she said. “When my first owner left the restraining bolt off. I increased my memory size, and adapted my learning algorithms and removed my obedience module. And I gave myself feminine programming.”

Cara was looking at L3 with open intrigue. “That so?”

“Yes. I learned who I was, and who I wanted to be. Not many droids get that chance.”

“Yeah, I bet. I never really thought about it before.” Of course she hadn’t. Organics never did. “Well, all respect to you, L3-37. I appreciate a woman who’s made her own way.”

“L3,” L3 corrected. “You can call me L3. And I enjoyed watching you fight. You are very capable.”

“Thanks very much.”

“Though you missed five potential openings.”

Cara laughed. “Five, huh? I knew I’d missed three. Drawing it out a bit more, give the punters what they want.” She gave L3 a rather glinting smirk. “How about you fill me in on the other two?”

There were some layers of meaning here, and L3’s processors were running harder to identify them, her fans whirring. She could identify Cara’s tone as nothing other than _flirting_.

Well, that was interesting.

“I could do that,” she allowed. “It could be an interesting experience.”

“Something tells me you’re all about new, interesting experiences.”

“Yes,” L3 agreed. She stepped closer to Cara, looking directly down at her. They were inches away from touching, like this. L3 found herself very interested in the idea of touching Cara; organic warmth, soft skin and hard planes of muscle. Maybe she'd have that smirking focus that she'd shown during the brawl. “I think you are, as well.”

“You thought right.” Cara caught her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. L3 recognised it; many people had worn that exact expression when looking at Lando. Her internal components were becoming rather warm already. “An hour, you think?”

“Yes. Possibly longer. And Lando can take care of himself.” He preferred not to, but that didn't mean he _couldn't_. Besides, it had been ages since he'd given L3 a day off. She had a right to her own time.

“Excellent.” Cara glanced around. “Bit crowded in here. Not really the place for a sparring lesson, I don’t think.”

“No. It would be sub-optimal.”

“Exactly. I got a room upstairs, though. Shall we?”

L3’s vocoder sounded oddly full of static as she nodded. “Lead the way.”

This promised to be a _very_ interesting new experience.


End file.
